Loghain's Push
by Kendoka Girl
Summary: After the Battle of Winter's Breath, Loghain thought the Bannorn subdued, but resistance continues to flare up. Meanwhile, agents of Arl Howe and the Warden vie for intelligence to win the civil war.
1. The Game

**W/N - **Thank you so much, roxfox, EE and Padawan Mage! I like to take a tidbit from the game and really try to flesh it out and put background to it. I've been itching to do a battle scene again, but I keep wanting to put some backstory to it. There's a term I learned in my training called 'shaping the battlespace' that I want to fictionalize so I hope to write how a battle unfolds. Let's begin with a little bit of intrigue.

**Denerim**

The tidbit on the Chanter's Board seemed to be just what the "rebels" needed to turn the tables on Teyrn Loghain. Leliana chuckled inwardly at the term, "rebels" as they had been dubbed by Arl Rendon Howe. It brought back memories of the days when she lived on the edge, playing the Orlesian Game. Now, the Warden had sent her into a new game to gather critical information on the enemy, disrupt their efforts and weaken their position in Fereldan. It was exactly the sort of thing that Leliana had hoped to put behind her.

She had gotten the tip from Liselle, the florist in the market, a coded note hidden on the inside of a stuffed animal that held a bunch of lilies in its paw. Leliana bought the floral arrangement and took it to her room in the Gnawed Noble where she carefully undid some of the stitches of the smiling toy bear. She pulled out a tiny slip of paper and looked at the seeming gibberish written on it. To the untrained eye, it was nothing, but only Leli and Liselle knew the code and the bard quickly transposed symbols and numbers into a readable message.

_Dear sister,_

_The Board is in need of attention. Our enemy is on the move and desires to finish off all rivals. My contact in the Chantry has more for you._

_Be well._

Leliana then swallowed the paper and retied the stitching. She put the lilies in a vase that sat on the window sill and put the bear in her pack. It would make a nice gift for little Amethyne back at the keep. Nothing that was left behind could possibly be used by Howe's agents that had kept a tight grip on Denerim for months. In the chaos of the civil war and the Blight however, Howe's iron fist was becoming increasingly shaky as food shortages and riots became increasingly common. Holes were appearing in Howe's net over the city, and coin from Orzammar, Redcliffe and now, Soldiers Peak were paying off the increasing number of Warden sympathizers as well as those just looking for hope. Still, every step in this new game was fraught with danger as Leli knew by the number of heads and limbs that adorned the battlements and towers as a warning to any traitors or spies.

In her room, she donned her lay sister robes and made her way to the Chanter's Board where she read about supply wagons heading for the Bannorn – timber, rope, mules, dried fruits and vegetables, gold and silver, potions and herbs as well as personnel. All of this could only mean one thing – an army was on the move. This was too big to ignore, but where exactly were they heading? The Bannorn was a large area and having the Warden's forces at the wrong place at the wrong time would spell disaster.

Leliana made her way into the Chantry past the grand bronze doors that bore imposing bas reliefs of Andraste and the Exalted March. It was an image that had always gripped the bard since her vision of the Maker. She dipped her hand into the bowl of blessed water and anointed her forehead to receive the sanctity of the Maker and then pressed on into the great temple, bowing to the sisters and mothers as she passed. The excitement of the game grew in her heart along with a shadow of fear – victory or death hung in the balance of her skills at subterfuge.

The bard glanced around, wondering who Liselle's contact was, but no one stood out at the moment. All she knew from previous operations was that, when she found this person, she would talk about the gray morning sky and would be answered with complaints about too much rain. Then, she saw a vase full of lilies outside the door of a chamber. That must be a signal. Resisting the urge to quicken her pace, Leli kept her strides even, making her way to the door. Acting as if she belonged right there, she pressed the latch and slid into the room.

As she shut the door behind her, a woman's voice called out, sweet and sultry. "Welcome, my pretty thing."

Leliana's blood ran cold in her veins. "Ma…Marjorlaine…."

"I thought I taught you better than that. You grew sloppy, ever so sloppy…using the same craft that we used in The Game. You think I wouldn't detect your little messages and signals? You and that flower seller? I owned The Game, remember?"

"I thought you were dead. I saw the Warden kill you."

Marjorlaine walked slowly towards Leliana, her hips swaying seductively under tight leather breeches that accentuated the woman's ass. Leli remembered that movement and that curvaceous shape and the touch of Marjorlaine's fingers on her lips. Leli sighed, feeling a warm tingling sensation trickling down between her legs and she began to feel weak and vulnerable. She fought with every ounce of her being to let those days go. At one time, Leli worshipped Marjorlaine, and she would do anything…yes anything for the Orlesian master spy.

"Ah yes, the power of illusion, Leli. I have learned many things and have gained many new allies since our days of playing The Game. Rendon Howe has found my services quite useful and his patronage provided me with coin and loyal followers...far more loyal that you, my dear. My double, poor thing, she played her part well until the Warden butchered her. I am disappointed that you, of all people, could not tell the difference. Hrmph, after all, we knew each others' bodies so well."

Leliana furtively searched about the room and could now see hidden assassins, poised to strike at Marjorlaine's command. Her breath rattled for a moment and she cursed herself for being so easily led into this trap. The temptation to kneel and beg her former mentor's forgiveness grew in her heart, which hammered like Master Mikhail's forge. Maybe she could still escape torture and death. There had to be a way out.

The bard exhaled deeply and lowered her head in submission. She slowly began to take a knee and looked up for a moment to see Marjorlaine smile and relax. That was all Leliana needed to see and she leapt back and tried to yank the door open. If she could get out of the chamber and into the grand hall of the Chantry, she would have a chance at escape. Just as the door opened, a net fell upon her, dragging her to the ground. She fought her way back up only to have the back of Marjorlaine's hand knock her flat.

"My poor, poor pretty thing. Your head will make such a nice trophy for Arl Howe and I will live in splendor. This new game has been ever so kind to me."


	2. Sacrifice

**W/N -**Big merci beaucoup to roxfox, Josie and Ygrain. :D Let's continue on with the battle portion of the story as Loghain takes the field against the rebellious Bann. But where is the Warden in all of this? We shall see. I drew a bit of inspiration from the Battles of Flodden and Tewkesbury during the Tudor period, especially the armor and weapons. For some reason, I just like the flail, aka the morning star. I want to show Loghain as the great general that he is, but with a wily and quick learning enemy. Next, we'll see how the intrigue influences the battle. Small warning - this chapter is a bit dark and bloody.

Other malarkey - My iaito (practice aluminum alloy sword) is finished. It only has to be shipped now. It was hand forged in Japan and so I'm hoping that it will be a good one.

**CODEX**

_Rampant – _heraldic term for an animal rearing  
><em>Azure<em> – heraldic term for blue  
><em>Vert – <em>heraldic term for green  
><em>Or – <em>heraldic term for gold  
>Tabard – a short coat often worn over armor with the heraldry of the wearer. Shorter than a surcoat and open at the sides.<br>Flail – a spiked ball attached to a chain on a stick

**The Bannorn o****n the Estates of Bann Oswin**

Swords, arrows and broken lances stuck out of the ground like blades of grass, intermingled with bloody corpses and the crawling wounded. Nearby, a man hobbled, using a spear as a cane to replace his severed leg. Teyrn Loghain shut out the screams and groans that rose from the battlefield like a chorus – it was something that he had long since learned to live with and he justified it as the cost of saving Ferelden. Sacrifice was something that Loghain held as dear as his beloved daughter. And, if others needed to bear that sacrifice now, so much the better.

Atop his great warhorse, the Teyrn surveyed the field, watching the enemy fall back in good order. Unlike the Battles of Winter's Breath and Iachus Valley, the forces of Banns Oswin and Telmen did not rout, but held their ranks, spears bristling outward as they marched back to Telmen's castle, their pride only bent but not broken. This civil war would continue until he could bring the rebels to heel and, only then, could Anora's crown sit secure.

"Ser Cauthrien, send the light cavalry to harass their flanks. We need to pin them down and finish them here. Once that is done, we'll bring the Warden to battle and force Eamon to submit. Quick, send my order."

His dutiful captain lowered her visor and gave him a smart bow. She waved her hand to the nearby group of messengers and then spurred her horse into a gallop, leading the riders, their pennants fluttering in the wind. Just ahead, Loghain's elite pikemen were reforming their thick ranks with steel tips creating an impenetrable hedgehog. This was the unit he was most proud of, undefeated in battle by Orlesians or rebels. He turned to another messenger. "Signal them to keep their pikes in Oswin's back while Cauthrien presses them from the flanks. I'll have his head on top of Fort Drakon soon enough."

Signal flags and banners changed angles to notify the pike formations to advance. Sharp steel lowered slowly and the _tromp_ of metal boots soon filled the air. Beyond his elite force, the Teyrn saw Oswin's men, walking backwards, their banners flying defiantly in his face. Up to now, every engagement that Loghain had fought in this civil war was a decisive victory on his part. He had to show Ferelden that resistance was futile. As in the Orlesian uprising, news of an escaped and unbowed enemy would spread like a cancer and serve as a rallying point for more rebellions.

"We end this now! I'm going forward to lead the assault!"

"Regent Loghain," a knight said in caution, "Ser Cauthrien has not yet returned with your personal guard."

"She'll just have to catch up. I cannot let Oswin and Telmen slip away. Gather what knights you have and follow me!" he said with a growl and spurred his horse forward. As he covered the grassy field the pikemen marched inexorably onward, deep kettle drums pounding out a warlike beat. He could see Cauthrien leading the light horse now, launching arrows into the ranks of Oswin's men, slowing them just as he wanted, giving time for the pikes and heavy horse to pursue.

Every beat of his horse's hooves brought him closer to uniting Ferelden and soon, he could see Oswin's banners clearly, a white unicorn _rampant_ on a field of _azure_. A moment later Loghain could make out Oswin himself, mounted and shod in silver plate with a sallet helm. His blue and white tabard with the rearing unicorn made him unmistakable. That was the Teyrn's target. He waved his gauntleted fist at Cauthrien, encouraging her. "Pour it into them! That's the spirit!"

Oswin's men raised their teardrop shields, catching or deflecting a number of arrows, but several men stumbled and fell, shafts protruding from leg or head. The enemy pulled ranks tighter, overlapping their shields…slowing them down. In most battles, there is a moment of truth, the moment that great leaders seize and win the day. For Loghain, it happened at River Dane when he broke the Orlesians; it happened at Winter's Breath when he routed the Bann of that name; and it happened in Iachus Valley when stormed the gates of the rebel castle in a surprise attack and burned it to the ground. His experienced eye knew that this was that moment.

"Pikes, full advance!" he ordered, pumping his fist in the air. He looked around through the slit in his visor and could see his own banners with wyvern _rampant_ on a field of _vert_ and _or_. Two score of his heavy horse had gathered, lances at the ready. The sound of marching feet was nearly deafening now as ranks of pikes lowered into deadly place, gathering momentum. Oswin's men appeared to accept the inevitable and drove the tips of their shields into the ground and braced spears for impact. From behind the many-colored shields, Owsin's crossbowmen unleashed a torrent of bolts, the short shafts snapping through breastplates and helmets. Pikemen fell, but their fellows simply stepped over them and surged ahead. The crash of men and steel shook the ground as arrows and bolts flitted overhead. Loghain squeezed his fist as if his will alone could break the rebels. Now was not the time to lose his patience. He knew better than that.

Several desperate minutes went by as pike and spear thrust into body. The Teyrn could feel Oswin's men wavering like the Banns of Winter's Breath and Iachus Valley did before. Terror would grip the soldiers as they began to realize that their end was at hand. Some would fall back, some would flee, opening gaps for the cavalry to exploit. It was time for his signature maneuver.

"Oblique order, now!" he called and signal flags dipped and waved, telling his right flank to fold to the left to increase the pressure in the center and allow the heavy horse to charge. This moment of truth was what made Loghain a general to be reckoned with. The pikemen on the right flank skillfully broke contact and fell in behind their comrades in the center. Loghain let out a whoop and took a lance from the hands of his squire. Spurs dug into the flanks of his horse and it bolted forward ahead of the line of knights. The distance closed rapidly over the grassy field and he could see Oswin's spearmen quail.

Then, the unexpected happened. The Bann's exposed infantry folded back into the center, just as Loghain had done and Oswin's knights came at him at the gallop. The great general's tactics had been matched. Loghain was barely able to lower his lance in time and the sharpened tip punched through a man's cuirass with a loud _ping_, lifting him out of the saddle and into the air. The crunch of armored bodies, horses, wood and steel came a moment later, throwing up a cloud of dust. Catching his breath, the Teyrn pulled his flail from his saddle and swung the spiked ball into the back of an attacker's head. The man tumbled from the saddle and Loghain kept the momentum of the ball going as he flung it onto the breastplate of another knight in blue. The spiked ball landed with a _whomp_, shattering steel like glass such was the Teyrn's strength.

Ribs cracked and organs ruptured and the knight fell over backwards into the mess of dust and fallen horses. Loghain lifted his visor, unable to see what was happening around him as all was chaos and swirling dirt. Out of the gloom, he just discerned a charging steed with a rider – it was Bann Oswin himself. The Bann swung a massive two-handed sword and Loghain ducked just in time before the blade clove the head of his horse clean off. The animal collapsed right there, pinning the Teyrn's leg to the ground. Oswin reared his horse and came about, lining up a killing blow.

"The Fade take you, Loghain!"

The _thrum_ of hoof beats grew louder and Oswin cocked his blade back as he leaned over the saddle. Loghain only had a moment to react. He kicked his leg free and rolled to the side, swinging his flail up into the horse's face. The spiked ball shattered the beast's skull and Oswin tumbled over it onto the ground. The Teyrn marched at his stunned opponent and spun the flail in the air to gather momentum. As the Bann rose, he flung the ball into the man's arm, several of the spikes puncturing armor and lodging into flesh. Oswin's arm hung limply and he tried to draw a dagger.

"I'll have the last laugh, Loghain!" He made a thrust at the Teyrn's groin, but Loghain caught the man's wrist.

"I gave you the chance to submit, Oswin! I gave you the chance to make Ferelden stronger, but you defied me!"

"With you as its dictator? I think not!"

Loghain yanked the flail off of Oswin's arm and twirled it overhead, bringing it down right atop the Bann's head. Spikes drove through the helmet and blood spattered out from the visor. Oswin crumpled heavily into the dirt. The Teyrn's victory was complete…or was it?

With the dust settled, he could see the bulk of Oswin's army and the entire army of Bann Telmen filing into Telmen's castle. Oswin's sacrifice had allowed their escape. For the first time, an enemy had survived and remained defiant when Loghain was personally on the field. For the first time, doubt gnawed at his innards. This was just the sort of thing that the Warden and her rebels would use to fuel the fires that could destroy the Ferelden that he loved so dear.

Ser Cauthrien rode up and lowered her head. "I am sorry, Your Grace. It seemed as if they knew our strategy. We will have a hard fight ahead of us."

Loghain took a deep breath and shook the doubt from his mind. "We will be victorious yet. Bring up the siege train and set camp. We'll bring Telmen's walls down around his ears."


	3. Double Whammy

**W/N - **More intrigue. Many many thanks to roxfox, Josie and Ygrain! There's a little bit of sensuality and I hope to capture the relationship between Marjorlaine and Leliana. Then, let's see how this all affects the battle!

**Denerim**

This new game had been ever so entertaining for Marjorlaine and profitable to boot. One by one, she had whittled down the Warden's agents in Denerim, selling them to Arl Howe for his sadistic pleasure. Sometimes, her prey wasn't even guilty, which made the game even more entertaining. Such was the like of poor Oswyn, the son of Bann Sighard. The boy had done nothing wrong other than getting a little too drunk…and crossing paths with Marjorlaine. Planting evidence of his Warden sympathies was all too easy and Howe never questioned guilt or innocence when she gave him another plaything.

Chaos, Marjorlaine thought, chaos is good for business and a weak Ferelden meant a strong Orlais. The irony was that Howe's very actions to 'save' Ferelden would cause her downfall…or at the very least a great loss of land back to the Empire. The fact that both sides paid heavy coin for her services was icing on the cake.

"No, the real icing on the cake is you, my pretty thing," she told a beaten Leliana as the girl rolled weakly on the floor, trapped in a net. "You will be the little cherry atop my treat."

Leli beat the ground with her fist and a sob escaped her lips. "No…no, Marjorlaine. Please, mercy."

The master spy took the bard's weapons and slid them away. "Ah yes, I am not without mercy, my poor girl," she said as she grasped Leliana's neck and pulled her up to her feet. Leli whimpered, fear emblazoned in her big eyes. Marjorlaine lovingly removed the net, letting her hands glide over parts of Leli's body that she had long forgotten. "Does this not bring back memories, Leli? It reminds me of when we first met. You were a lost and frightened child, just as you are now, no?"

Leliana bit her lip and closed her eyes, but then nodded. "Yes, Marjorlaine. I remember."

Marjorlaine brushed errant locks of strawberry hair from Leli's eyes and smiled. The girl would be her plaything once again. Leliana had always been too trusting and her time as a Chantry Lay Sister had only made her more vulnerable. The master spy brought her fingers down to Leli's lips and the bard kissed them, bringing an old longing to spy's body. There had been others, but Leli had always been the best. Marjorlaine involuntarily closed her eyes, imagining the heat of intertwined forms. "Come to me, my pretty thing," she said and pulled Leliana to her.

Lips met and hands pulled on knots and cords and Leliana's robes fell away. Marjorlaine could feel Leli's hands snaking their way behind her, working their way into pockets and crevices. Marjorlaine exhaled and threw her head back, opening her eyes for only a moment. Her blood ran cold.

"What the…?"

Up in the rafters was a lithe elf, holding a bloody dagger, a lecherous grin on his tattooed face. Marjorlaine pushed Leliana back and looked around for her guards, but all she saw were dead bodies where her men should have been. What kind of assassin could have done that?

The elf hopped down onto the floor and shook his hands in frustration. "Oh curses, you couldn't have waited a few more minutes to find me? Just when things were getting good," he said as he let his eyes wander over Leli's form. "Zevran Arainai, formerly of the Antivan Crows, at your service. Please," he said with a chuckle, "don't let me stop you two."

What was going on? Did Leli double cross her? With an angry shout, Marjorlaine drew her dagger and hurled it at Zevran, but the assassin swatted it away with a stroke of his own dagger. The elf was blindingly fast and closed the distance in the blink of an eye. He made a slashing cut at her throat, but Marjorlaine was not without her own tricks. She slid inside the arc of his attack and caught his wrist. Using his own momentum against him, she flung the elf into Leliana, causing the two to tumble to the ground in a heap.

The spy moved to attack, but it was far too dangerous. She didn't survive this long as master of The Game by being reckless. There would be another time – after all, the city was locked down and they wouldn't be going anywhere. "I will see you again, my pretty thing. Only, it will be your parts strewn about Denerim," she said as she smashed a window and leapt through. As Marjorlaine rolled away she could hear Leliana behind her.

"You can get off me now, Zevran. And hand me my robe!"

Foolish girl. She would not live long now. Marjorlaine sprinted to Howe's estate to alert his agents. She knew all of Leli's hideouts, all of her contacts, all of her codes. The girl would beg to die once this was all over, only she wouldn't have a tongue to do it with. As always, the spy came through a secret entrance and was greeted by Howe's agents. She would gather more forces and hunt Leli and that elf into extinction. No one made a fool of Marjorlaine and lived to tell of it. In the basement of Howe's estate, she was taken to the Arl's office, past horrific screams and cries for mercy. That would soon be Leliana and her friend.

They entered the office and again, Marjorlaine's blood ran cold. Arl Howe was placing a purse of coins into Liselle's hand. What was she doing here?

"Thank you, Liselle," he said and then patted the woman on the ass. "You have been a great servant to Chancellor Loghain. We will not forget you."

Marjorlaine stammered. "My…my lord, what is going on?"

The Arl turned and narrowed one eye. "Seize her," he said and then guards grabbed Marjorlaine, none too gently. "Ah, you thought you would play me for a fool, huh?"

A horrible, cold prickly grew in the spy's gut. "What? No. No, my lord. I have ever been faithful. That woman lies! She is one of the Warden's agents!"

Howe shoved his hand into Marjorlaine's pockets, letting his hands linger longer than necessary. "Ah…what have we here? Documents, bearing the seal of Orlais? And…hmmmm…secret correspondence from the Warden herself!" Howe's hand shot up to her throat and squeezed hard.

"No! No! It's all lies! I swear! It was Leli, curse her! It was Leli who planted those!" Now it was all clear – Leli's roaming hands putting paper in pockets.

Howe turned back to Liselle. "Thank you, my sweet. I shall see you later then."

Liselle gave him a demure smile and then looked directly at Marjorlaine, giving the spy a wink.

Marjorlaine squirmed in her captor's grip, but to no avail. "No! I know where the real spies are! I'll tell you everything!"

Howe licked her cheek and let his lips settle on her ear. "I know you will. I know you will," he whispered as if to a lover. He then opened up the sealed letters with his dagger and read them carefully. "The Warden and the Orlesians plan to stage a coup in the palace in two days. Hmmmm, these are authentic. I know the Warden's handwriting. You there!" he said to a messenger. "Take a message to Loghain. He must return to Denerim at once or else his daughter's crown will be in jeopardy. Tell him we'll be ready for them."

Marjorlaine began screaming and thrashing about. Panic was setting in. How could this have happened? The Arl waved his hand at her dismissively. "Prepare her for me. I'm going to enjoy this," he said. A man with a black mask stuffed a rag in her mouth and, as guards dragged her away to the dungeon, she thought she saw a woman in lay sister robes blowing her a kiss.


	4. A Coup in the Palace

**W/N - **A happy Orlesian merci beaucoup to roxfox, Josie, Ygrain and Kaarlo! I'm going to try to bring some life and a little detail to a medieval siege and how important logistics were. There's a little more about how Marjorlaine got played and you might recognize some of the letter that set her up from some of the DLC. And, there's a little foreshadowing of Anora's fate too. In the ensuing chapters I'm putting in a bit of humor with some nugs and some insertion/extraction devices, maybe even a dude dwarf in high heels with a whip.

Other malarkey - I am told that my Iaito (practice sword) is finally complete...after six and a half freaking months. I hope to receive it before the Taikai or official demonstration in August. I shouldn't hold my breath.

**CODEX**

Catapult – medium siege weapon using torsion to throw a projectile  
>Trebuchet – large siege weapon using a counterweight to throw a projectile<br>Barbute – visorless helm with an open face in either a T or Y shape  
>Fletchings – fins at the back of an arrow used to stabilize flight<br>Halberd – pole weapon with an axe head and a long spike at the end

**The Bannorn on the Estates of Bann Telmen**

The rhythmic pounding of rocks impacting on stone walls had long since become background noise in Chancellor Loghain's tent. The morning air was still cool and the Teyrn warmed his hands over a glowing brazier. Through the open flap, he could see the arms of catapult and trebuchet wind and then uncoil, hurling boulders and even dead animals at Bann Telmen's castle. If they weren't crushed by rocks then disease might take them. Either way, the enemy would be dead. Nearby, diggers shoveled dirt, delving mines to collapse the battlements that protected the rebels from justice. A massive siege was underway.

Ser Cauthrien entered, holding her barbute helm under her arm. "Your Grace, the first siege line is nearly complete. Bann Telmen's castle will be surrounded by the end of the day. He sent out several raiding parties, but we have driven them all back."

"What of supplies?" Loghain asked, always keenly aware that logistics could win or lose a battle.

"The Chantry gave us enough to last two weeks. However, the Warden just ambushed our last wagon train," the captain said, disdain dripping from her lips.

He grunted with a hint of frustration. He had not been able to bring the Warden into open battle, where she would surely be destroyed. Instead, she had nipped at his heels with her tiny force, capturing food and arms and killing messengers…just as he had done against Orlais. "What of Telmen's supplies?"

Cauthrien sighed. It was another bad sign. "He has a month worth of crops and water that were pulled into the castle before we arrived."

"So, we can't starve them out, can we?"

"No, Your Grace."

Loghain was nothing if not cool under pressure and he quickly reassessed the situation and its urgency. "Begin a second and third mine. Keep up the fire from the trebuchets as a distraction. I want the miners to be under Telmen's walls in four days," he said and then pointed at a map of the castle. "We'll collapse three walls, here, here and here, and then overwhelm him from three directions. We have two weeks at most so we must move quickly. I'll bring Anora the banners of Oswin and Telmen for the grand hall yet. Then, we'll take Telmen's supplies and press for Redcliffe. That will force the Warden to stand and fight."

Cauthrien was about to leave when a rider galloped up and reined his horse in violently. "Arl Howe sends an urgent message!" the man called and jumped down from the saddle – three arrows protruded from his armor…Dalish arrows with white goose feather fletchings.

Two guards with halberds parted to make way for the messenger. "Your Grace, we were attacked by elves on the road from Denerim. Only I escaped!"

"Elves?" Loghain asked. How were the damn Dalish involved in this? He examined the shafts quickly, all glancing shots. "It's a good thing that the Dalish aren't good marksmen. Neither of these wounds is serious. Give me the dispatches and get yourself some food and drink."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

The Chancellor sliced open the letters with his dagger, breaking the wax seal of the Arl of Denerim. He read the first few lines and the color drained from his face. "A coup? In the palace? Why am I just hearing about this now?" He read a little further, seeing how the Arl had dispatched the news right away and requested that the Teyrn return to settle the unrest and destroy the Orlesian plot. The mere mention of Orlais and any threat to Anora made his blood boil. Having the hated Orlesians gain a foothold in Ferelden once more was unthinkable. A million questions rushed through his head – were the Dalish rising up? How did Orlais get agents into Denerim under Howe's nose? How could he be at two places at once when there was a siege to run? It was enough to drive a regent mad and he knew that he had to make a decision, quick and confident. That was what his soldiers needed to see. The Dalish were nothing, a mere nuisance and Bann Telmen was finished, but Orlais…Orlais was a real threat.

Loghain wiped trickling beads of sweat from his brow and then pumped his fist into his other open hand. "We cannot let Orlais regain any power in our land! This threat must be dealt with personally. I leave for Denerim at once."

Ser Cauthrien looked at him with concern, her eyes narrowed. "Your Grace? You alone are worth five thousand swords on the field. Surely, the Arl can handle the matter."

He swung his fur cloak over his shoulders and began walking out of the tent. "Cauthrien, I give you the army. Carry out my orders and destroy Bann Telmen," he said, giving her a nod that was both stern and loving at the same time. She had always been his faithful servant and had never let him down. There was so much that needed to be said, but now was not the time. As much as he wanted to reach out to her, he was the regent and could not afford such displays. "When I return, I expect to see scattered rubble where that castle now stands," he added, addressing all of his captains. "Guards! My horse! We ride for Denerim!"

As he swung himself into the saddle, he looked back to see Cauthrien make a furtive move to join him, but then she backed away and pursed her lips. As the captain of his personal guard, she had always been with him, through thick and thin. But, desperate times called for desperate measures. Soon, he would put Orlais back in their place and the Bannorn would be united under his regency. Then, that snake, Eamon and the Warden would have to bend the knee and either kiss his hand or feel his boot.

Two knights raised his Wyvern standard and called out, "Make way for the regent! Make way!" Soldiers cleared a path and spur was put to horse as a trebuchet hurled another rock into Telmen's walls.

As an experienced general, the Teyrn sent out pickets, light horse scouts to reconnoiter the road else they be ambushed. The ride to Denerim was swift and exhausting and Loghain switched horses several times to keep up the pace. They arrived well after dark, hooves clattering on cobblestone as they passed through the gates and under the portcullis on their way to the palace. After the hard ride, his ass hurt and his legs felt like rubber and he swung back over the saddle to land with a painful grunt. The years were catching up to him and he thought for a moment on how he used to be able to ride all morning, fight all afternoon and barely be breathing heavy. Soon though, soon it would all be over – Ferelden united, Orlais kept at bay, the Darkspawn incursion removed and Anora safely on the throne. Everything that he had fought so desperately for would be within his grasp.

A carriage waited just ahead and Loghain and his guard handed the reins of their horses to ready grooms. Rendon Howe stepped out and made a curt bow that seemed to lack the respect that he had shown before. Was this the same bow that the Arl gave to Teyrn Cousland on that fateful day? A sense of paranoia grew in the regent's gut and he choked it down else it get the better of him. He was just tired and his imagination was now running rampant. What did the Orlesians have planned? "Arl Howe, what intelligence do we have?"

In spite of the impending danger, the Arl made a grin that seemed to take him far away. "Your Grace, I have uncovered an agent that revealed to me that she was working for the Orlesians."

"So, she told you just like that?"

"No, it took a little…persuasion. I have a skill for such things, you know."

"Except for when your touted Antivan Crows failed to complete their mission."

Howe snorted. "That remains to be seen, Your Grace."

"Nevermind. Pray, continue."

"I recovered documents from the little spy about the Orlesian plot and the Warden's movements."

"Are the documents authentic? Did the spy admit to them?"

"She denied them for a while, but she was eventually convinced to tell the truth. Here, Your Grace," Howe added, producing the documents. "You can see the true seal of the Empress Celene I and the hand of that upstart girl."

"Let me see," Loghain said, examining the impression of the dragon over three lilies set in red wax. The detail was unmistakable – it was that of hated Orlais. He read it over, but parts of the letter were smudged and unreadable. Still, its intent was unmistakable.

_Ferelden is…weakened due to the Darkspawn problem. The Darkspawn have good…timing, don't they. Let us deal with the…regent first. Once that is done, we will discuss your reward. _

_You will secure the palace __on the morning of the 23__rd__. _

_My chevaliers stand ready…and will…march to Ferelden._

_Empress Celene I_

Images of another Orlesian occupation filled the regent's mind – burning villages, impaled peasants and swarms of refugees fleeing the chevaliers. It could never be allowed to happen again. Never. He looked at the letter again and grit his teeth. Would Celene really risk war? He couldn't risk not believing it – the coup was set for this coming morning. He balled the letter up and threw it into the street.

They did not have a whole lot of time left and they had to move quickly. "Arl Howe, have your agents ready within the castle walls."

"Already done."

"Report directly to me from now."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

"And what of Anora? Have you seen to her safety?"

Howe seemed very proud all of a sudden as if he bore some powerful secret. "I have indeed. I had her moved to my estate in Denerim. She will be quite secure there, I _assure_ you."

Loghain breathed a sigh of relief. "That was very good of you. Let me read the Warden's dispatch and then we shall be on our way."

_To my trusted friend,_

_We are still not strong enough to stand openly against the tyrant. I must remain near the prince's uncle to absorb any thrust from his forces. It is up to you to play them and confuse them behind the lines. To that end, our contact with the Magister's Shield has proven to be ever so useful. You have been our loyal friend in bringing the tyrant to justice and I know you will never betray us. Even if captured, I know you will resist unto death. _

A small image of a griffon was drawn at the bottom of the parchment, enough to tell the regent that it was from a Warden. And, he had seen the girl's writing before, when she tried to send a letter to Fergus Cousland before Ostagar. It looked like her writing. Still somewhat suspicious, he needed just a bit more to satisfy him. "What did the spy say about this?"

"Of course, she denied everything at first, even saying she hated the Cousland child. But, my skillful inquisition pulled the location of the Magister's Shield from her. So, I guess she did resist."

The look on Howe's face sent chills down the regent's back, but that was enough confirmation for Loghain. The fact that the Warden was still too weak for open battle and in a defensive posture reassured him. He could deal with this situation and still destroy Bann Telmen without interference. "What action has been taken?"

"It took a while for her to tell me of this place. At first, she said it was just a hideout in one of the back alleys of the festering commons of the city, but I knew otherwise. I dispatched scouts to confirm the location and my men will be taking it down soon. I did not want to tip off the main conspirators too soon. We'll bring down the whole rotten lot in one swoop."

"Excellent. Let's make that happen so I can return to the siege and bring the Bannorn to heel."


	5. Love and Kisses

**W/N - **I've never done Zevran's POV, so let's indulge. A little humor, a little raunchiness, a little action and a little melancholy as Zev reflects on the past months and plans for the operation. If you haven't visited the Pearl and bought...the surprise, here are the products with a little guest from Orzammar. I took your idea, EE. :D I enjoy detailing the equipment and items in the world and what sets a sallet from an armet, a poignard from a rondel.

Domo arigato gozaimasu to roxfox, Josie, EE, Ygrain and Padawan mage for motivating me along and for bringing me wonderful stories to read as well.

Other malarkey - I defeated my sensei in a kendo duel, 3-2. One was a series of actions that I set up for a flank cut and one in which I disarmed him I lost 5-2 last time.

**CODEX**

Kettle Helmet – a hatlike helmet with a wide brim, usually worn by footsoldiers

**Denerim**

Watching Leliana in action was like watching a glorious musical play. The notes of her recent machinations rose and fell in beautiful rhythm, building to a chorus and then drifting off into subtle silence. She was easy on the eyes too…but such a tease.

Along with the bard, Zevran now hunkered down in the darkness atop a building that overlooked the Magister's Shield. Black cloaks kept them hidden and protected them from the growing patter of rain. Watching the hideout for the impending attack, Zev could not help but notice how Leliana had changed over the months. At first, he thought she would be easy prey – silly, naïve and vulnerable, but there was steel in her heart underneath that healthy bosom. He had seen that steel grow since they stood before the altar of Andraste in Haven. The elf had never considered himself much of a believer, but that whole scene rattled him.

"Leliana," he said softly, his voice barely audible above the rain. "I thought it magnificent how you altered the Orlesian letter that the Warden got from Ostagar. Reusing Celene's seal…brilliant."

She giggled a little, showing a little of her old, silly self. "I'm glad you thought so. I spent a lot of time getting Marjorlaine to follow all of my routines. You think I wouldn't be so dumb as to use all of our old codes and craft, huh? And I knew she would be too proud to tell Howe anything before she wrapped me up."

"Do you not miss her? I mean, you two were very close, no?"

In an instant, the bard's face changed and she shot him a look that spoke daggers. "No…it was all a lie."

"So, what Howe is doing to her…you don't-"

"No, I don't."

Zev knew enough to let it go at that point. They still might have an hour or so to go before Howe would make his move on the Magister's Shield and there was no sense in creating unnecessary tension. He was all for keeping things light. He adjusted his seating as his foot had fallen asleep and the rain water was pooling around him. Perhaps a little quiet might be good. He leaned back against a brick chimney and sighed, letting his mind take him back some months. It seemed like forever since his merry band of Crows had tried to kill the Warden. Now, he could not imagine anything other than the camp – the roaring fires, the Warden's crazy hound, the taciturn hunk of rock called Shale and even Morrigan's scathing comments. He chuckled to himself. The world had changed so much in so short a time.

Zev was getting nostalgic. Not the proper attitude for an assassin. He lifted his face into the rain and felt the pelting drops on his skin. It felt good. It made him feel alive. He wiped the water from his eyes and remembered everyone's every move in camp after he had been captured. For his own survival, he needed to know where everyone was…what everyone felt. That was his skill as a Crow – to know and to use to get the job done. Keep his options open, as he liked to say.

Still, he had made an oath and he meant to keep it as long as it kept him alive. Much to his surprise, the Warden made that easy. On more than one occasion, she could have let him die in the heat of battle, but she never failed to come to his aid. In that cursed tower of mages, he had been badly wounded by the horror of the possessed Uldred. It was the Warden that nursed him back to health. He could still feel her hand on his forehead, wiping away the sweat of the fever. Of course, gentle flirting ensued – he could have done no less. Then, he orchestrated a 'chance' meeting down by the river. She looked so tense. There had been so much pressure on her. He offered a massage.

"Stop it," he whispered to himself. "Don't torture yourself." He felt the rain again on his face.

Leliana looked back. "What? Did you say something?"

He forced out his usual chuckle. "Me? Oh, no, I was just humming a tune to pass the time," he said and she turned back to watch the building. Zev closed his fists and dug his nails into his palms. He couldn't help himself. The Warden's big blue eyes haunted him like a ghost. The way she sighed when he dug his fingers into the knots in her bare shoulders. It was all so easy. This was what Zev did best. He could have even claimed the reward on her life if he so chose. When he laid her down on the grass though, he saw something that he had not seen in years…trust. He could drink of that look for years and still be thirsty. But, it would all be just fun, he told himself. And it was, for a time.

Worse, he knew she eventually became involved with another – with a prince. And then Zevran Arainai did the stupidest thing he had ever done in his wanton life, he told her that he wanted to be the only one even though he knew what the answer was already. He could still hear his forced chuckle to her after. _Ah, well, it was steamy while it lasted, no?_

A lump formed in his throat and he wished he could take back that moment in time. As he was about to indulge in more self pity, he heard a sharp, "Psssst! Hey, wake up. Howe's men are about to go in."

"Huh? Oh, yes, of course. We've been waiting all night for this. How silly of me."

Soldiers in mail wearing the surcoats of the Arl of Denerim gathered under the eaves of nearby buildings to stay out of the rain, but water still dripped down from the brims of their kettle helmets. An officer came up to order them forward and they inched through the mud, brandishing axes and swords.

Leliana settled down, leaning over the ledge to get a good view. "Two birds with one stone…I love it. It's like The Game, all over again. That fact that Marjorlaine's friends are inside makes it so much the better."

The soldiers burst in, setting off a trap that had been put in the doorway. Blast and bits of nails and debris tore the first two men to bits, knocking another back. The officer waved more men in and they charged through, the sounds of battle erupting soon after. Screams and the _clang_ of swordplay wafted upwards and Zev picked his teeth with a small wooden stick, enjoying two enemies destroying each other. The chorus of the melee soon began to die away and it was time to act. "Ah, is the foreplay over? I'm ready to put it in," he said, licking the blade of his shortsword before he poured poison on it.

Leli actually winked. "There are some times I appreciate your depraved humor."

"Why, I'm honored."

"I said _some_ times. Don't get a fat head. Come, let's go."

They shimmied down a gutter and sauntered into the Magister's Shield to find dead soldiers and blood mages scattered throughout the room. "Marjorlaine was dealing with blood mages? Oh, nasty bunch. Better off dead," Zevran said, stepping over the corpses. They followed the fading sounds of fighting down a hall and through another door, where they saw a man in crimson robes point his finger at Howe's officer. Blood erupted from the soldier's eyes and ears and he screamed in agony.

The elf set to charge at the blood mage and crouched low, but the mage saw him and waved his hand, throwing Zev into a wall. The impact rattled his brain and he dropped his sword and dagger. He heard Leli yelp and grabbed the first weapon he could find, a dead soldier's bow. "A bow? I'm no good with a bow."

"Zev, just do something!"

On instinct, he rushed at the mage, but at an angle. The mage swung his hand towards him, but the Crow slid under the path of the spell and swatted the caster in the groin with the bow. The blood mage squealed and crumpled to the floor.

Leli quickly slit his throat with her knife and then looked back up at Zev. "You could have just shot him."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"Okay, you got me there."

Zev heard a movement behind them and he turned, nocking an arrow with fumbling hands.

"Hey, don't shoot! It's me, Sergeant Kylon," a man, wearing the uniform of the city guard, said. "You can lower your bow, Zevran. And besides, your arrow is backwards."

The elf looked down at his bow. "Oh, haha, so it is."

The sergeant glanced at the carnage around him. "Oh, thank the Maker, you killed those blood mages. The city will be better off without them."

"So, did you bring the gifts for Howe and Loghain?"

"I did, yes, although I can't for the life of me understand what you need nugs for?"

Leliana and Zevran chuckled together, saying in unison, "Ahhh, nugs."

Kylon pulled in a crate that was rocking and squealing and set it down on the floor and then pushed in a drunken dwarf, frocked in the finest gown and high heels, his beard dripping with ale. "The Warden has the strangest sense of humor, I swear. Still, I would never want to cross her."

Zev nodded. "That is wise," he said as he pushed the transvestite dwarf over and sat him down on the body of Howe's officer. "There, there, Vartag, just you rest now. We'll get you some more ale soon."

Kylon made a curious face. "Just who is this dwarf?"

"Vartag Gavorn. He worked for Prince Bhelen and crossed the Warden."

"Ah, right, understood."

The elf wrapped Vartag in a whip, applied lipstick and covered him in shaving cream and then set about a number of sensuous toys that he had borrowed from the Pearl, including the dreaded insertion/extraction tool. "Okay, almost done."

The sergeant shook his head. "I…don't want to know."

Lastly, Zev pinned a note onto Vartag's gown and opened the crate of nugs. "There we go. Now, let's get out of here."

They scrambled back out and up the gutter, helping Kylon into their little nest above the building. Soon enough, Loghain and Howe came running with their guards. Through a small hole in the roof, they peered down into the blood mage chamber. "Ah, this will be good," Zev said with a chuckle.

Howe led the way in, looking at the carnage, brandishing his two shortswords as he entered. "Blighted Andraste! What the…?" he exclaimed as a nug jumped in his face. He hurled it away, the nug squealing through the air.

Loghain followed soon after, his eyes big with surprise and anger. "Where are the Warden's followers? What is this? All I see are dead blood mages and…this!"

Howe shook his head. "I…I don't know, Your Grace," he said as he kicked another nug out of the way and picked up the insertion tool. "There's a note – insert foot in ass. Use the extraction tool if you experience stuckage. Stuckage? Is that even a word?"

The regent seized the tools and flung them away in a rage. "What is this? The coup attempt that you foresaw…nothing but drunken White Falcon mercenaries told to meet whores outside the palace!" he yelled as he walked up to Vartag. The dwarf burped and began mumble singing some dwarven nonsense. Loghain tore the note off of the dress.

_Love and kisses, _

_Warden Cousland._

Loghain closed his eyes and closed his fists for a minute, the veins in his neck appearing about ready to burst. Then, his eyes shot open and the color drained from his face. "Oh, Maker…the army…and Cauthrien. I have to return to the army now!"

Zevran and the others watched as the regent and the others rushed from the Magister's Shield, leaving squealing nugs and a senseless Vartag to wander about the room. Zev lay back, tasting the rain on his lips. "I love it when a plan comes together. Now, the Warden just has to do her part," he said and let himself indulge in her memory once more.


	6. Carnage

**W/N -** My husband is working this weekend so I'm on a roll. I've wanted to write something from the Dalish perspective and here we are. I did a fair amount of DA wiki surfing to research this and I wanted to show how aravels might be used. There is a fair amount of bloodshed and the battle is joined. All of this for one small sidequest.

Ma serannas to roxfox, Josie, Ygrain and EE! And happy birthday, EE, this one's for you. :D

**CODEX**

Din – someone who has died  
>Uthenera – waking dream. Also, an elven poem<br>Aravel – a Dalish land vehicle  
>Halla – a horned animal, larger than a deer and companions to the Dalish<p>

**The Bannorn on the Estates of Bann Telmen**

She could hear her own breath in the darkness of the predawn hours. It was useless to sleep at this point and all Lanaya did all night was toss and turn. The new Keeper's mind raced with so many doubts and questions. Could Zathrian have been saved? Did she have any right to be the Keeper of these proud people? How would those proud people fare in open battle today? Every time she envisioned the coming fray, her mind would show her nothing but carnage and destruction. She and the Warden had gone over the plan too many times to count, but still….

"Can't sleep either, huh?"

Lanaya nearly jumped out of her skin. "Oh, Merrill, you scared me."

Merrill's black hair and Dalish tattoos were just barely visible in the distant light of lamps. "Sorry, Keeper. I'm scared too. I haven't been this scared since I tried to find the Eluvian."

The Keeper tried to put on a brave face, but it wasn't working. "Merrill, I've held it together since Zathrian fell, but this is open war now. I have no experience leading us in this sort of thing. The enemy _shemlen_ before us and the Darkspawn behind…did I make the right decision to stand by the Warden. Maybe we _should_ have gone north to the Free Marches."

"No, the Warden is a good person. I see it in her. She reminds me a lot of that Duncan fellow. Duncan tried his best to save Tamlen and Theron Mahariel, poor _din_. But now, Ariane is a wonderful hunter, one of the best with sword I've ever seen...other than the Warden. They'll help us to be victorious, right? And _Hahren_ Paivel, he knows enough to keep us safe, doesn't he? I do love his rendition of the _Uthenera_. Plus, the Warden gave us her promise. I trust her, you know. Oh, I'm rambling again, aren't I?" Merrill said, looking down.

"It's okay. I needed someone to talk to. I'm not sure I can do this," Lanaya said, unable to dispel that cold prickly in her gut. "Zathrian would have known how to handle this."

"But Zathrian is not here, Keeper. You are."

The Keeper chuckled and put her arm around her fellow mage. "You're right as usual. Come, it will be light soon enough. I best rouse the hunters."

They slipped back through the trees to see Ariane and some of the other hunters, seated on the forest floor, stringing bows and sharpening swords and daggers. Ariane had several quivers of white feathered arrows laid out and was applying poison to their barbed tips. "_Andaran Atish'an_, Keeper."

"_Lethellan_," Lanaya said with a bow. "You didn't have to get up so early. I was just coming to wake the clan."

As always, the hunter was proud. "I didn't want to oversleep and have the _shem_ miss the edge of my blade. Besides, Fenarel kept kicking me…and his snoring, ugh. Best to get up and prepare."

The Keeper couldn't tell if Ariane were faking or not, but she didn't seem to have an ounce of fear in her. She wished she could have the hunter's confidence. "Well, I shan't waste any more of your time then. I'll go and see to the final preparations of the aravels and the halla."

"Already done, Keeper. Elora spoke to the halla earlier. They are ready for what lies ahead. _We_ are ready."

Lanaya felt a hot flush in her cheeks and nose and she turned away to wipe her eye. This clan…these people were the finest she'd ever met. They deserved a better Keeper than she. She couldn't let them see her like this. "I…I…thank you."

"Keeper," Merrill said quietly. "When Zathrian fell, you held us together. The clan would have fallen apart and run if you hadn't been there with the Warden. We will follow you."

The Keeper was speechless. All she could do is force a smile and nod.

It was Ariane, who broke the silence. "Well, don't we have some _shem_ to teach? What are we waiting for?"

Silent as the forest, aravels moved around the trees, drawn by faithful halla. One by one, hunters and mages boarded, stowing weapons and armor and potions where they could be readily used in battle. Ariane hopped up onto one aravel and then turned and extended her hand to Lanaya and Merrill. "Come on up. The view is fine from here."

Just over the whisper of wind in the leaves, _Hahren_ Paivel sang the words of the _Suledin_, the Dalish song of endurance.

"Time was once a blessing  
>but long journeys are made longer<br>when alone within.  
>Take spirit from the long ago<br>but do not dwell in lands no longer yours."

"Be certain in need,  
>and the path will emerge<br>to a home tomorrow  
>and time will again<br>be the joy it once was."

Lanaya closed her eyes and put her hands together, asking Mythal to protect them. The Dalish had to endure, but the path to a new home would be through fire and steel.

The fleet of landships slid from the woods and onto open ground where the predawn sky was still full of stars. It was this quiet time that Lanaya loved and she breathed in the cool air, closing her eyes for a moment. Would this be the last time that she saw her beloved trees? Then, she turned back to the crew of the aravel and lifted her hand. "Raise the sails! Raise the sails! The Dalish go to war!"

Rising masts pulled crimson silk into the air and the wind caught the sails, driving them on at a blinding pace. Off in the distance now, the Keeper could see the bright orange flames of a siege in progress. Tiny fires hurled through the sky at a dark castle, bursting into sparks upon the walls. Campfires ringed the defenders, a sure sign that they were surrounded. In mere minutes, the scene of carnage grew and Lanaya could see one of the castle's walls down with men pouring through the gap. Ladders and some great tower, covered in leather and iron, were up against another wall. Molten liquid poured from towers onto metal clad _shem_ below. Elsewhere, fantastic wooden structures hurled flaming rocks over the battlements. The Keeper's gut tightened, almost cutting off her breath and her hand shook for a moment. "_Aneth ara_, what sort of hell is this that the Dread Wolf has brought us to?"

Lanaya balled her fist and looked to the rear to face the fleet. There was no turning back from this precipice. "Now, Dalish. Swift as the wind, silent as the forest, fierce as the fire, steady as the mountain!" she yelled and she could hear bowstrings being drawn around her.

Just as the sky showed a small glow in the east, soldiers of the _shemlen_ turned, their eyes and mouths full of surprise. Arrows flashed past the Keeper and snapped into the soft bodies of men just emerging from sleep in the tents. Merrill aimed her staff and one of the siege engines exploded into flaming rope and shards of wood. Soldiers quickly began to sound the alarm. "To arms! Enemy to the rear!"

The fleet slid past burning and falling tents and Lanaya saw men rushing at their aravel. An arrow lodge in the planking in front of her and another _whooshed_ past her head. She flung her staff in their direction and thorny brambles sprung up around the _shem_, engulfing them. She shot another spell into another group and the men screamed and ran as if the Dread Wolf were on their tails. Still, more soldiers were coming at them and the keeper held out her open hand and then closed a fist, pulling a massive wooden siege weapon down on them. The great wooden arm of the weapon pounded on the ground, scattering men like toys and then splintered into a shower of wood. A shard of the wood slashed across Lanaya's cheek and she blinked for a second, holding her face.

"Are you alright, Keeper?" Merrill asked, bracing her with had hands.

"Keep fighting, Merrill, keep fighting! Don't worry about me!"

Merrill took her staff again and twirled it around, hurling rocks from the ground into the _shem_. Tents and wagons blazed around them and Lanaya lost sight of much of the fleet. She saw a group of pikemen skewer the halla of one aravel and it tumbled over, throwing the occupants on the ground. The landship bounced and then landed on three of the Dalish, scattering broken planks all around. "No!" the Keeper called, but it was too late for them. Surviving hunters tried to rise, but a knight in silver plate, covered in a tabard emblazoned with a wyvern, ran up to one of the Dalish and put an axe right into his skull.

"Archers, take that _shem_ out!"

Barbed arrows flew out from their aravel, but Dalish arrows were meant for hunting, not for armor and the tips broke or deflected off of the knight's plate. The man ignored the pelting and swung his axe in a wide arc, severing the head of another hunter. Lanaya let out a cry of frustration as they moved out of range. She wanted to will the halla to come about, but they quickly had problems of their own. Flaming arrows tore through their sails and the crimson silk burst into fire. She aimed her staff up and sprayed the flames with an icy mist, dousing the inferno, but it was too late. Ashes of several of the sails flew off and the aravel slowed to half its speed.

"Where is the Warden?" Ariane shouted at the top of her lungs. "Where is the Warden?"

Nearby, another aravel had come to a stop, its halla dead and its sails burned. _Shem_ scrambled up the wooden planks and hacked the Dalish to bits. Then, their aravel jolted, hitting something and everyone was thrown hard to the deck. Lanaya could hear yelling and she shook her head to see hands on the railing and then soldiers pulling themselves over the planks. Ariane clove her longsword into the neck of the lead _shem_ and then drove her point into the eye of the next through his visor. "_Ar tu na'lin emma ni!_" the hunter cried as she hacked off the arm of another soldier. Indeed, there was much blood on her blade.

Other hunters fought as more _shem_ poured over the sides. Two soldiers seized an elf and flung her over the side where a man with a mace crushed her chest as she lay on the ground. A crossbow bolt found another hunter, its shaft going clean through his neck. Blood sprayed on Lanaya and she blinked, stunned by the carnage. "Mythal, protect us," she whispered. Then, she saw a soldier raise an axe over her head.

As if only a golem without a mind, she thrust her staff at him and unleashed a torrent of lighting right into his face. The man collapsed at her feet, but she kept the power flowing, letting the arcs of electricity connect to all of the metal clad _shem_ on the aravel. With a nearly feral cry, the Keeper poured it on until she was drained. Nothing but smoking heaps of flesh remained of the _shem _on the aravel now.

Lanaya's breath came in ragged gasps and sweat rolled down her face, coating her feathered jacket in a glistening sheen. She was spent. Looking around, more and more soldiers were gathering and horsemen were riding to their flanks. "We must fall back, Ariane. I'm sorry…we must fall back. Sound the horns."

A shrill note pierced the air as the sun peeked up above the horizon and the fleet turned about and fled before the pounding of the hooves of _shemlen_ cavalry.


	7. Another Day

**W/N - **Let's take a look at another POV as the battle rages. I like taking a look at the same event from different eyes and we'll watch the Dalish attack from someone else's POV. Again, I want to bring a little life and detail to a medieval siege with a bit of fantasy. It's interesting to note that different arrows made a big difference on the battlefield. I drew on the historical battles of Mohi (Mongols), Pavia (Hapsburgs) and Tewkesbury (Wars of the Roses) for some inspiration on the tactics. Plus, there's a little hint of Loghain luv. Warning on battlefield gore.

We'll finish this segment with an epilogue (more humor and some love) and look at several characters as we slide into the Landsmeet.

Ma serannas!

**CODEX**

Faulds – bands of armor to protect the thighs.  
>Skirmishers – light troops used to screen an advance, retreat or protect the flanks<br>Bastard Sword – a 'hand and a half' sword, longer than a longsword, shorter than a two hander  
>Pavise – mobile wooden shield used by missile troops<br>Mantlet – larger pavise, used by more than one person  
>Sabatons – armor for the feet<br>Bodkin arrowhead – armored piercing  
>Bill Hook – pole weapon with an axe head, spike and hooks to bring down cavalry<br>Armet – full helmet with a visor  
>Gorget – throat guard<p>

**The Bannorn on the Estates of Bann Telmen**

Teyrn Lohgain's council of war gathered in the grand tent in the darkness for the final assault that would sweep all of the Bannorn under his iron fist. The only thing missing was the Teyrn himself. "All is ready, Ser Cauthrien," the lead miner said, his arms and face covered in sweaty dirt. "On your word, we'll detonate the grenades, which will break the beams…the whole mine will collapse along with the south wall."

Cauthrien was tired – she had barely slept a wink overnight and the stress was eating at her like a vulture. For the first time, she was in command of the whole army and it was Loghain's trust in her that drove her to demand perfection in every detail. "What of the other mines?" she barked impatiently. "You said the other two would be ready this morning."

"My lady, we are still ahead of schedule. The regent will probably only have recently arrived in Denerim. We'll have that wall down for him well before he returns."

"You'd better, churl. His Grace entrusted me with this siege. Do you _know_ what that means?"

"I do, my lady," the miner said with a sigh. "We await your word."

"Bring down the wall in ten minutes. Do not fail, do you understand me?"

"Yes, yes," he said and waved his hand as he walked back to the mine entrance. She didn't like how the men treated her. She should command the same respect as the regent. After all, she had earned it fighting by his side. Somehow though, she knew deep down that captaining the guard was a whole other matter from leading the army. There were so many details…so many factors from the range of the trebuchets to the personalities of the knights. She wished for Loghain's booming voice to guide her now, but he was in Denerim, crushing the coup and the Warden's hopes.

She turned to the assembled war council and saw doubt in their faces. She had to push through this or else what kind of a knight was she. She had heard that there were desertions since the regent left and there were discontented rumblings in the ranks over her abrupt and harsh manner. This moment needed a confident face. "Bann Pelham, form up your infantry in a shield wall at the south. Ser Sinton, have the pikemen back them up. Bann Moutan, I want the siege tower and ladders on the west wall. We go in less than ten minutes."

In the battle, Loghain would be out there, near the forefront and so would she. She picked up her barbute helm and wiped the fatigue from her face. It would be over today and then, they could all rest. She pulled the leather straps of her scabbard over her shoulder and secured them over the armored faulds on her waist. The _clink_ of her spurs jingled on the ground as she walked into the predawn mist. It was such a small thing that should have long since passed, but she treasured that sound – the sound that signified knighthood. From nothing, Ser Cauthrien had the honor to save the life of the great hero of Ferelden and then fought her way up to become the commander of Maric's Shield, Loghain's personal guard. It was not easy as many of the nobles looked down on her still, but the teyrn had never failed to put his faith in her. Receiving her spurs from him had been the proudest moment of her life.

Cauthrien walked over to stand beside Bann Pelham, a man she found arrogant and distasteful, but he was important to the regent's war effort. They waited in silence and she thought of Loghain…alone without her. When this was over, he would come back to her. She knew that it was just the stress of the war that kept him at a distance. Yes, it was the stress…and the guilt. He did what he had to do, she told herself. Sometimes, you have to do terrible things to do the right thing. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she felt for Lady Cousland, but the woman now threatened everything that she held dear. The Warden would destroy Ferelden for the sake of something the girl could never get back.

She missed Loghain. She missed him terribly. Not the regent, not the teyrn, but the man. She pressed her lower lip into her upper one and squeezed the handle of her sword. Then, a roar shook the earth and the ground trembled. Stones from the south wall wavered as if they had turned into liquid and the battlements and ramparts crashed down as the mine blew. "Now, to victory! Into the breach!" she called as she drew her bastard sword.

The shield wall surged forward as rocks flew into the gaps in the castle defenses. Cries of dismay from the defenders fueled Cauthrien's fire. Skirmishers deployed to the flanks of the infantry, firing crossbow bolts from behind pavises and mantlets. Arrows and bolts arced back, pouring down like a rain shower. Shafts soon stuck out of shields, making the advancing infantry look like a moving pincushion. Soldiers held shields both in front and on top, making the formation into one giant tortoise, intent on destroying the rebels. A few of the darts found targets, causing men to fall out of line, only to be replaced by another man. As the shield wall reached the base of the wall, troops broke formation to rush up the rubble into the breach. From an adjacent tower, a stream of flaming oil and molten iron poured down, splashing on the attackers. The screams were horrific, but still, they pressed on.

Just behind the front line, Cauthrien stepped over debris and smoldering bodies. A man reached out to her, the flesh of his arm and face melting off. She couldn't stop. "Keep moving! Keep moving forward! The castle is ours! Up the steps to the tower. Take out that tower!"

Her men swarmed up the stairs under a hail of fire and bashed in the door to the tower. Soon, the enemy fire slackened and then died away altogether. Infantry charged along the battlements, sweeping Telmen's archers from the walls. "Blessed Andraste, thank you. His Grace's trust in me was not misplaced."

As the first glow in the eastern sky appeared, shrill horns sounded behind them, catching Cauthrien's attention. She climbed the steps on part of the ruined wall and looked out. She couldn't believe her eyes. It was as if ships were sailing on land. "What the…?"

"It's those damn knife eared Dalish!" Bann Pelham said. "We should have exterminated those vermin long ago."

Two catapults and numerous tents were already burning and they watched a trebuchet collapse on some of their men, crushing a supply wagon in the process. Horses and mules bolted in panic, running over other people. The strange landships flitted about, drawn by what seemed like elk, elves firing arrows and casting spells. Damn, not now. Not when she was so close. It felt like she had been awake for a month, but she could not falter at this point. "Bann Pelham, lead the assault home. I'm going back to deal with this."

Cauthrien scurried back over the rubble, noticing that the burned man was now still. "Ser Sinton, bring the pikes with me! We have to stop this attack." The ranks of long shafted spears opened and reversed, moving to the sound of battle. She pointed at a squad and then aimed them at one of the landships. "Ser Sinton, stop that one!" she yelled and the knight and ten troopers peeled away and ran at the ship, skewering the elk that pulled it. The ship veered and then crashed, hurling the elves onto the ground. As Sinton split one elf's head with his axe, Cauthrien pointed at a group of her archers.

"I see a weakness. Flaming arrows at the sails, _now_!"

Fiery shafts flew into the crimson silk sails, setting them alight. This was having an immediate affect, slowing the landships and causing elves to fight the blazes instead of fighting men. Cauthrien noticed that the Dalish arrows were having little effect now that more heavily armored soldiers were arriving and the barbed tips were almost useless against the knights in plate. The tide was turning. She snapped her fingers and ten more pikemen fell in behind her as she charged another landship. The sharp tips of pikes drove into the elks as the ship's sails burned. Other soldiers formed a human pyramid next to the ship and troops clambered up. Cauthrien stepped on the back of one man, holding her sword in two hands and thrust up through the leather armor of an elf. "Up and over, men!"

She pulled on the rail to climb into the ship and an elf came at her, shouting some of his gibberish. She pushed her hand up and draped her blade over her head and shoulder. The elf's sword clanged on hers and deflected into the railing. Cauthrien immediately followed up, swinging around her head, driving her blade through her attacker from collar bone to hip. At close quarters, her armored men had a huge advantage and it was simply butchery at this point.

As the first rays of morning light touched the land, shrill horns sounded again and the landships turned about and fled towards the sun. Cauthrien breathed a sigh of relief. She could now turn her exhausted body back to Telmen's castle and finish the job. Her armor felt as if a boulder had been tied around her neck and she pulled off her barbute to lighten the load for a minute. The sound of approaching horses forced her to look over and wipe the sweat from her eyes.

"Ser Cauthrien, we must pursue and destroy those knife eared fiends." It was Ser Sinton, now mounted on a massive warhorse.

"No, Ser, we must finish the siege. Then, we'll go after the Dalish and bring justice to them."

Sinton became impatient, waving his war axe. "We must finish the elves now or else they will fade back into their rotting woods and snipe at us forever. I heard them crying to their filthy gods that the Warden had abandoned them. Now is the time, Cauthrien. If you won't lead the men, I will!" he demanded and the knights around him cheered their approval.

Cauthrien looked back at the castle, now swathed in the morning light. Pelham's men still assaulted the various towers and the inner keep. Arrows and boiling oil still rained down on the attackers. The issue was still in doubt. Worse, pursuing a mobile enemy was difficult at best and the regent had taken nearly all of the light horse with him. But, she realized it was the best chance to knock the Dalish out, once and for all…and without the Warden's help. The pressure was on to make a decision. The knights and Bann expected her to be aggressive and crush the enemies of the crown. "No, Ser, I will lead us," she said and hopped down onto a warhorse, setting her sabatons in the stirrups and setting her barbute back in place. "Follow me!"

She put spur to horse and the cavalry and faster infantry followed the limping landships to the east. Dalish stragglers were ridden down like bugs and the heavy horse pounded on towards the ships, which were now throwing up clouds of dust in their wake. With most of their sails burnt, the Dalish were falling behind, allowing the giant armored warhorses to gain. The forest was ahead now and she had to stop them before they reached the tree line and faded into shadows. "Pick up the pace! We've got to catch them quickly!"

As the line accelerated forward, Cauthrien watched the dust clouds around the Dalish and something felt wrong, terribly wrong. There was something moving behind the dust…something big. "Wait, slow up, Ser Sinton!"

"What? Are you mad or just frightened? Look at them! They are beaten and we cannot let this opportunity go," he shouted and then rose up in his stirrups. "Knight's of the regent…Charge!" Thunder rattled the ground as hundreds of hooves pounded on the earth and banners and bright streamers signaled the glory to come.

"Dammit, Ser Sinton!" she called, but her voice was drowned out in the wave of cavalry. Then, the landships suddenly veered left and right in orchestrated unison, opening a gap in the center, just before the forest. Were they turning to fight when escape was so near? The dust in the middle settled and Cauthrien's jaw dropped open. Ranks of dwarven pikemen stood there like a forest of steel, anchoring the center. Above their army flew the banners of Orzammar along with the black banners of the Legion of the Dead. Guarding each flank were squadrons of Redcliffe knights and men-at-arms along with a gang of Circle Mages. Cauthrien reined in her horse violently, letting Sinton and the other knights forge ahead for the moment. She had to look around and understand the situation. She watched the knights charge for the middle and the dwarves began pounding their shields together, creating a deafening din.

Longbow shafts darkened the sky for a second and then fell among the knights. These were not barbed Dalish tips, but bodkin heads made into a tiny sharp point. Shafts snapped through steel plates and armored horses, sending knights tumbling head over heel onto the ground. Still, the cavalry pressed on. A young woman with black hair twirled her staff over her head and the dust swirling among the knights burst into flames, causing horses to rear amid panicked screams. Still, the knights charged. "For Loghain!" they yelled in unison, the pounding of hooves making it seem as if the whole of the Fade was emptying of demons. Surely, this rag tag force would break and run from a charge of heavy horse, the greatest chivalry in Ferelden.

Then, banners rose over all of the rebel ranks, included the flanking landships. They were blue banners with the _Rampant _two-headed Griffon, _Argent_ – the sigil of the Warden Commander in Ferelden. And beneath, a woman, mounted on a black warhorse, waited patiently among her friends for the enemy to arrive. The woman's armor appeared to be made of shiny blue glass and bits of dragon scale and her tabard was blue with none other than the two headed Griffon. This was the Warden.

Still not moving, Cauthrien gasped. "Dear Maker, the Warden does have an army…a real army." She tried shouting to recall Ser Sinton, but her voice was swallowed in the raucous of the charge. Lances lowered from armored arms over armored horses within a stone's throw from the dwarves and men of Redcliffe. From seemingly up out of the ground, the enemy raised pikes and bill hooks as if a forest were sprouting from the earth right there. Sharp stakes pointed out of the soil to trip or catch horses. This was a prepared and determined foe dug into a defensive position. Cauthrien put her hand over her mouth – there was nothing that she could do to stop this.

The long pikes outreached the lances and their tips pierced through horse and rider, punching great holes in the knights' armor. Horses reared and fell as the line of cavalry shattered on the line of pikes and stakes. The charge was spent and the enemy, unbowed. Thrown riders rose and tried to fend off the wall of sharp steel that was now advancing on them. Still mounted, Ser Sinton lopped the head off of one of the pikes and then whirled his axe around to cleave the helm of the wielder. "Rally around me!" he shouted. His horse kicked a dwarf in the face, knocking him back into his fellows and then it spun, brushing aside two others. Sinton buried his axe into the chest of a dwarven legionnaire, giving his men time to reform and remount.

Cauthrien waved frantically to her men behind her. "Get the pikemen up here! Bring up the archers, now!" As the infantry hustled to get into the fight, the landships sailed into range and unleashed a volley into her lightly armored bowmen. She could see a brown-haired elf in one ship, urging her people back into battle. Cauthrien let out a frustrated cry – they had been set up. She could almost admire the sacrifice that the Dalish had made to deceive them…almost since their lives were at stake now.

She was about to direct an attack on the elves when the Warden rode forward into the fray alongside her pretender prince, Alistair. Behind her, a bronze-skinned Qunari and a walking statue ran into the melee. At the gallop, the Warden skewered a knight with her lance and then let it go as the knight tumbled out of the saddle. Two of Cauthrien's men on foot rushed up and swung at the Warden, hoping to knock her from her horse. With a brush of her hand, her sword seemed to appear from nowhere and, with a stroke, she shattered one man's blade. Another swing cut through the second man's armet helm like it wasn't even there. A final thrust went right through the first man's gorget, coming out the back of his neck. It all happened so fast that the two men fell at the same time. The Warden held her sword up and a light shone from the tip like a star. What, in the Maker's name, was this weapon?

Her archers falling around her with barbed arrows sticking out of them, Cauthrien spurred her horse towards the Warden. She had to get her knights out of there. Star sword or not, she would fight her enemy and die to save Loghain's honor. As she rode up, she could see the Qunari hewing down two men at a time and the golem beating men into the ground, yelling, "Squish," with every blow. Just ahead, Ser Sinton charged anew, hacking the golem and knocking a chuck of rock away. The Warden rode at him and he dodged her cut and then leapt onto her, the both of them crashing to the ground. Cauthrien accelerated towards the two – if they could kill the Warden, there was still hope for victory.

The girl rolled away as Sinton put his axe into the ground where she had been and she sliced up at his head, cutting off only the antlers on his armet when he dodged back. He yanked the axe up and swung again, but the Warden sidestepped and clove his arm clean off at the elbow…through armor, flesh and bone.

Cauthrien tried to press through the mass of men to get to Sinton, but the pretender prince hauled him to the ground and all sight was lost of the knight in the chaos. Another knight rode up to her and hurled his helmet away, his eyes full of panic. "We must retreat! We are beaten!" he screamed. She looked around to see knights running and riding in all directions, heedless of the enemy. The Dalish and the Warden's light cavalry flitted nearby, throwing volley after volley into their ranks. The regent's army was nearly surrounded.

Two men fell in front of her, pierced by the bodkin arrows of the Warden's archers and Cauthrien's gut tightened as she tried to think. They were all going to die here if she couldn't think – the Warden was not famed for her mercy. The girl's heightened sense of vengeance was as well known as Howe's sadism. They had to make a break for it.

"You men, follow me!" she shouted and rode at only gap in the circle around them. Grabbing a spear that was sticking out of the ground, she rode hard for their one chance to escape. The Dalish leader's landship moved to intercept and the black-haired mage hurled a bolt of lightning from her staff, frying one rider. The leader waved her staff and brambles of thorns rose from the very earth, snagging another rider, but Cauthrien leapt her mount over it. She could see the Dalish preparing another round of spells and she flung her spear into the lead elk, piercing it through the neck. It crashed to the ground, knocking the others over and the landship slammed into the carcasses, knocking the elves to the deck and shattering one mast. Cauthrien leapt her horse over the fallen timber and fled with a handful of riders.

Ser Cauthrien was numb the rest of the day as the army gave up the siege of Castle Telmen and retreated to safety in friendly Bann Ceorlic's estates. This was a disaster. They started the day as masters of the Bannorn and ended it with one third of the regent's army annihilated. Nearly all of the heavy horse and a full two regiments of pike were gone. This was a disaster. She could envision so many of her friends and her comrades, their heads on pikes to satisfy a girl's vengeance…if the stories were true. She hoped that they weren't. Maybe the Warden would find it in her heart to show mercy.

A voice sounded in her ears, seemingly miles away. "Ser…. Ser Cauthrien, we are beyond the pursuit of the Warden. Let me take your horse, ser."

"What? My horse? Yes…yes, do."

She slid off of the saddle and onto the ground, only then realizing how much pain she was in and how exhausted she was. With a flick of her hand, she knocked her barbute off of her head and let it lay where it fell. She staggered away, right past a valet with a pitcher of water and headed towards the grand tent that was meant for the regent and his war council. She stopped for a moment at the tent opening, but then went around to the side where her legs gave out and she wobbled to the ground, held her hands to her face and let a river of tears flow through her fingers. The teyrn would never forgive her.

Then, a hand touched her hair and Cauthrien looked up with a start. Through watery eyes she saw her lord, looking down at her. "Forgive me, Your Grace," she said, stifling a sob as she grasped his hand.

He knelt down and wiped the sweat and soot from her face with a damp cloth…his own sash of office. The hard lines of his features and his hazel eyes softened. "There is nothing to forgive. The fault is mine and mine alone. You kept the honor of the regent." His usually booming voice was now soft and sincere.

Cauthrien held onto his arm like an infant, rocking back and forth to get a hold of herself. She tried to speak, but no words would come.

With strong arms, he picked her up, armor and all and carried her to his tent. He laid her down on his cot gently and stroked her hair. "Rest now. Rest well. There will be another day."


	8. For Highever

**W/N - **The epilogue...which is turning into another few chapters. Funny how that happens. For Highever! I've got two for one with another one posting shortly and a third tidbit in the works. After spending all that time writing Starfang's forging, I enjoyed writing it in action.

Many many thanks to Roxfox, Josie, Ygrain, EE and Padawan Mage for support! :D Otanoshimi nasaemase (please enjoy).

**The Bannorn at t****he Borders of the Lands of Bann Ceorlic**

"Once more, men! Once more!" the Warden shouted to her army, which was just within sight and earshot of the regent's retreating force.

A thunderous roar shook the ground. "Highever! Highever! Highever!"

Yes, rub it in their faces. There would be no forgetting the tragedy that brought her to this place in time. The enemy soldiers were hunched over, exhausted and demoralized, in full retreat from the coalition. The sight of their backsides brought a smile to the Warden's lips. To add frosting to the cookies that Sten seemed to love so much, in their haste to flee to safety, the enemy had abandoned their siege engines and their camp, leaving much needed supplies for the victors.

The Warden spurred her horse and rode in front of the advancing line of troops, handing her lance and her sallet to the sons of Bann Oswin and Bann Telmen, her new squires. "That's enough for today. This alliance of elves, dwarves and men has won a great victory over tyranny. We are one step closer to justice and one step closer to defeating the Blight. We may have routed the forces of Loghain Mac Tir, but it is the Darkspawn that is the greater threat and it is for them we must marshal our forces. You have earned a well-deserved thank you and a much needed rest. It is to you that I bow," she called and dipped her head to the army, sweeping her hand low.

Pikes, swords and shields banged and rattled to the chant of, "Warden! Warden!" Their commander drew Starfang and it glowed, even in the daylight as she circled it above her head, eliciting greater cheers. Then, she lowered the sword and ordered them to make camp and post scouts.

Only Sten seemed displeased. Walking besides the Warden, he looked up and frowned. "_Kadan_, why did you not completely destroy your enemy? They were at your mercy. The Qunari would not have shown such weakness towards a beaten foe. Your leadership was in error."

Months ago, Alice Cousland would have been gravely insulted, but now, she understood the people of the Qun – as much as they could be understood by an outsider through one man. He was challenging her…challenging her beliefs as a friend. "If I were to have completely annihilated Loghain's forces, how many of us would have died as well, weakening our strength?"

"That's inconsequential. Your enemy would be no more. You would march into Denerim and be the master of the city. All would bow or be put to the sword. That is the wiser course of action. Having let the regent's army go is folly."

"Who would then defend the city against the Darkspawn after we would have sacked it and destroyed Loghain's entire force?"

Sten thought for a moment, but countered with, "A fair point, but just how to you propose bringing those men to your side to defeat the Blight? They are still your enemies."

"That will be up to Arl Eamon. He intends to call the Landsmeet soon to decide the future of Ferelden."

"And you trust him?"

"…No. But, for the moment, our goals align."

The Qunari seemed confused. "Alistair seems to trust him. Are you humans always so divided in your opinions? I see that as being one of your most glaring weaknesses."

"Yes, we are always so divided. It is our fate…a weakness, but also a strength."

He shook his head. "Such chaos I will never understand. The Qun teaches unity of mind, unity of heart, unity of effort and unity of strength."

"I admire your philosophy. Perhaps, if we live to see the end of this, I will incorporate your wisdom."

Sten seemed shocked, his eyes narrowing and his brow furrowing deeply. "You never fail to surprise me, _Kadan_."

"It's a gift. And Sten, one more thing…if I were to have butchered the regent's army, would that not have fired more resistance against us? But, if I let five thousand frightened and demoralized survivors slink back into Denerim, would that not tax their resources and spread discontent until the Landsmeet convenes?"

"That is…formidable thinking. I look forward to the day that the Qunari will meet you in battle."

"The human in me hopes that day will never come, but should it, I will be ready."

The sound of hoofbeats drew the Warden's attention and she turned to see Alistair ride up. "Alice, we have rounded up over five hundred prisoners. Bann Pelham was captured when he was caught between Bann Telmen's rallying troops and our assault. He is…uhhh, demanding to see you."

Pelham…. She remembered the name. Along with Howe, it was a name she'd never forget. A fire grew in her gut and she thought about how many she had put to the sword in her quest for vengeance – mercenaries, assassins and even demons had been exterminated in the name of justice for the Couslands and for Highever. Her earlier words to Sten seemed hollow and distant when it came to seeing anyone responsible for the murder of her family at her mercy. Without another word, she dug her heels into her horse's flank and rode towards the gathering of prisoners that were guarded by survivors of Highever's sack.

The arrogant Bann Pelham rose and strode forward as if the Warden would kneel at his feet and kiss his ring. His men grasped his hands and tried to hold him back. "No, my lord!" they cried. "She has no mercy. She'll execute us all! Please!"

Pelham broke free and raised his arm as she approached. "Warden, I demand to speak with you!"

Yes, the Warden knew this man…one of Howe's lackeys and equally as depraved. He had been at Highever. She reined in her horse just before it ran him over, causing him to leap back in terror, his face instantly changed. Her mount snorted on him and stamped its hoof, pawing at the grass.

The Bann took a breath and recovered his senses. "Warden, you must-" he began until she put her finger up to silence him. She wheeled her horse, letting its tail snap into Pelham's face, and then took a spear from Ser Osric, one of the Highever survivors who had escaped with her. She held the spear up in an overhand grip and then spun her horse back around.

"You were saying?"

The man froze, stammering. He took several steps back, holding the palms of his hands out. "I…I…."

"You were at Highever. I remember you. Not so surly now, are we?"

"No…no, it was Arl Howe. No, please…spare me. It was all Howe, I swear."

No more words needed to be heard. The tip of the spear shot forward…just slicing Pelham's cheek. The prisoners all recoiled as if they had expected the man to be skewered on the spot and they, themselves butchered shortly. The Bann crumpled to the ground, sobbing.

The Warden then hurled the spear away, the tip burying into the ground an impossible distance ahead, propelled by her Fade fueled strength. She then pointed to the huddled captives. "You are not soldiers of the regent, nor are you soldiers of the Arl. You are soldiers of Ferelden! If you wish to fight _for_ Ferelden and save her from tyranny and the Darkspawn, then join me. Here, you will find mercy."

To a man, they bent their knees. To Bann Pelham, the Warden said, "And you will write out a confession and condemn Arl Howe as the murderer of my house."

"Y…yes, my lady. But…but what will happen to me?"

"I confine you to the dungeon of Redcliffe until such time as I decide what to do with you." She wheeled her horse again and rode off with Alistair in tow. She felt numb and nauseous and thought her meal might reappear. But, not here. Not in front of everyone.

Alistair caught up with her and looked over with concern. "I thought you were going to kill him."

"I thought so too."


	9. Snug as a Nug in a Rug

**W/N - **Epilogue part deux. :P Be prepared for some awesome Seussage poetry, modified from an Orzammar song. Guest starring, Leliana. And, the scheme is revealed.

**The Estate of the Arl of Denerim**

Rendon Howe looked out from the window of his mansion to see columns of beaten soldiers marching back into the city. He had to admit that it was a testament to Loghain's leadership that the army returned in some semblance of order and light cavalry could be seen in the distance, screening the massive retreat. Wagons full of wounded rolled over cobblestone streets to the Chantry, where the revered mother and her flock attended to their injuries. Some were beyond any hope though.

Howe sighed and stroked his little gray soul patch. Everything would change. When he read the dispatch of the battle and rout, his legs gave way and he sat for hours in the dark, imagining the Warden at his door. The defeat of the army would fire the imaginations of the rebels and miscreants would flock to their cause, hoping for a bite of the dying beast.

Everything _had_ changed. His face still burned at the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of unknown agents. Posters, showing Howe kissing a transvestite dwarf with a whip sprang up around the city and comic songs were sung in low places about Howe inserting a nug where the sun didn't shine and then having to extract its stuckage. Just at that moment, a woman's melodious voice rang up through the streets, accompanied by lutes and flutes.

"Do you like fried mush and nug?  
>I do not like them, Mister Howe.<br>Is it because you take a bow?  
>And the nug becomes your plug.<p>

"Would you hump one on a rug?  
>If you do, you should get a hug?<p>

I would not hump one on a rug.  
>From one, I do not want a hug.<p>

So, up your butt, have you a bug?  
>Or, up your butt, have you a nug?<p>

I have a nug plug, squeaked Mister Howe.  
>And when I get it, I give a growl.<p>

Howe, I have an extraction tool.  
>But why you need it, you are a fool."<p>

Raucous laughter wafted up after the song and Howe's face became as stone, his fists balled hard. To add insult to injury, nugs had snuck into his pack at the Magister's Shield and hitched a ride home. Now, the…_his_ estate was full of the vermin.

He pounded on the wall. "Guards, seize those minstrels!" he ordered and armed men ran down into the street as musicians scattered, guffawing as they fled. One strawberry-haired woman in lay sister robes tittered as she scurried away, waving her lute over her head. His iron grip on the city was failing and he was a laughing stock now.

The Arl wracked his brain to think of who might have leaked the scene. It had to be one of his soldiers. They would pay as did all the others who had crossed or denied him. But, there were other worries as well. Now, that schemer, Arl Eamon, would take full advantage and try and put his pretender on the throne and he would control the young fool like a puppet.

Perhaps all was not lost though. Howe had an ace in the hole though and his careful planning would soon come to fruition. He walked over to his armoire and unlocked a cabinet where he had hidden secrets for many weeks. An open box, lined with silk and velvet, bore two golden rings, one with a massive diamond. Behind the box sat a mannequin head bearing a crown. He took the jeweled circlet and put it on his brow, adjusting the fit. "Ah, it feels so right," he said and then turned to a nearby mirror. The Arl bowed low to his image. "Your Majesty, the King of Ferelden."

The regent probably wouldn't approve of him marrying Anora, but then, the regent might not be around that much longer. Come to think of it, neither would Anora. And the Warden could take the blame for it all.


	10. The Heir and the Spare

**W/N - **Haha, epilogue, part III. Just short clips to follow up the battle and lead to the Landsmeet. We have a new POV, who may not be as saintly as portrayed in the game. Everyone has a scheme and an angle even though they may mean well. The next chapter should end this feature presentation with the Warden again or Alistari and a little romance. :D

Mahalo to all! It's been a read and write day...except for finishing DA II: legacy.

**Redcliffe Castle**

The Arl slowly shut the door to his office, taking a deep breath to maintain his composure. "Alistair, you're not thinking clearly. You just fought a battle and you're flush with emotions. You have to think this through. I raised you better than this."

"_You_ didn't raise me, my lord. The Templars did."

The boy was still trying, just like he was as an adolescent. "Alistair, you _must_ think of Ferelden. You cannot be serious."

"Deadly serious." The prince's expression was hard, his eyes set. He wore a magnificent silver and gold doublet, accentuated with gaudy slashes in the fabric, that bore the _rampant_ wolf, symbol of the Theirin kings and queens. This was not the same silly boy that went off to guard the Mage's Circle all those years ago. I am going to marry her, my lord, with or without your blessing."

"And what then? If all we've worked for comes to fruition and you become king and you make the Warden your queen, what then? Will there be an heir? How likely is that?"

"Not likely. And, being king was never _my_ goal."

"It is the _only_ goal. Anora is strong, yes, but Loghain is stronger and he has shown us that we cannot let him rule the land. You understand that, don't you, Alistair?"

"I do."

"And Anora is not of the Theirin line. You are. You are the only one and with the Warden, you are unlikely to have any children. What happens in Ferelden when a king or queen passes without heir?"

"Civil war."

Good. Alistair was calmer now, more reasonable. The welfare of the realm must come first. "The more kingly choice would be to marry Anora and consolidate both factions."

"But I do not _love_ Anora." Defiant again. The boy was never easy to deal with. Two steps forward and three steps back.

"Love has no place in the battle for the crown."

"My lord, if I may…you married Isolde for love, did you not?"

Eamon paused. He raised his finger to speak, but he could not counter the words of the prince. There were cries of outrage when he married an Orlesian against all logic. Then, their son, Connor, showed magical ability. For love, they tore the Fade and nearly destroyed Redcliffe to keep Connor with them rather than send him to the Circle. He blew out a long sigh. "For love…. Oh, Alistair, my boy."

"I'm not a boy anymore. I am a prince."

"So, you are, my prince. So, you are," the Arl said, wiping his face with doe skin gloved hands. "You must be king and you must plan for the future. If…if you are to marry the Warden, you must think upon the future of the realm. I understand that she has declared Amethyne to be her daughter?"

"Yes, she is a wonderful child. She will be arriving in Redcliffe this evening with, of all things, an escort of former werewolves. Can you believe it?"

"You mean the ones from the forest where you lifted the curse?"

"The very same. Still hairy and growly, but much nicer now."

Eamon came around to Alistair's side and put his arm around the young man. "I am glad for you and the Warden. It is the Maker's blessing that you found love in all of this madness."

"Thank you. Why is it that I get the feeling that there's more?"

"You were always perceptive in that, Alistair. You must understand that Amethyne can never be proclaimed heir to the Ferelden throne. The nobles would never accept an Alienage elf as their ruler."

"I know…civil war…death and chaos…dogs and cats, sleeping together."

"This is no laughing matter, my prince. King Cailan perished without issue and now, this is the mess that we are in. Every moment that you are in battle, the Theirin line is threatened."

"I'm sorry. I still get flippant when I get nervous. I'll probably have to learn to live with it."

"As will we all."

"Alice will not like that, but I think that you are right. What can we do? Anora seems unlikely to produce any children either. If not Amethyne, then who?"

Eamon had agonized for weeks over this one moment. He had poured over so many details of lineage and legality and it all kept coming down to only a few choices. Ferelden's future might lay in the next word that he would say. "Connor."

"Connor? Your son, Connor?"

"Adopt him. Make him your heir. Alistair, of the major noble families, there is no one else. Anora is the last of the Teynir of Gwaren, and Alice, the last of the Couslands. Would you see a Howe on the throne one day? I think not. The old names are fading away and the nobility will fall into the abyss. I have called the Landsmeet to convene in two week hence. Connor is the only choice for the greater good."

Alistair sighed. "Why does the greater good always feel like the worser bad?"


	11. Love Sneaks In on Catlike Paws

**W/N - **A little humor, a little magic, a little love and a little plot foreshadowing. I took inspiration from all of you out there in trying out some new plot and character points. This wraps up Loghain's Push and we're on to the Landsmeet.

Again, a deep and heartfelt thanks to roxfox, Josie, Ygrain, EE and Kaarlo for your support.

**Redcliffe Castle**

"Good morning, fat lumpy boulder," Morrigan said with an almost flirty nod to the golem.

"Good morning, skinny shrieky witch," Shale answered, her eyes and gemstones glowing a calm blue hue.

"Dumb as a bag of rocks."

"Bird brain."

Then, the two started to laugh as Morrigan walked past. Over the months, the two had reached a tense alliance or perhaps it was…_frenemies_, yes, that's what she decided to call it. Initial threats to squish Morrigan into red paste were met with midnight plant growth spells, inducing a mossy rash on the big golem. Watching the hunk of stone scratching like a Mabari hound was priceless. This, in turn was met with some weird golem power that trapped the witch in the form of a spider for two days. It took another week to get the webs out of her tent and sleeping bag.

Morrigan sighed and then chuckled. It was almost as fun as taunting Zevran. Well, sometimes, the elf was just too easy. She remembered the last time she got him, she walked by him dripping wet, her underclothes clinging to her body. "T'is just so hot," she said obviously. "I'm so wet and there is no one to dry me off."

Zevran's eyes bulged and he glanced both ways before getting up to follow her. "Are you taking volunteers now? I knew you would come around."

The witch walked into her tent, swinging her hips and then tossed her small clothes out the door. To her dying day, she would never forget how the elf's lecherous grin changed to terror when he strutted in to see a grizzly bear. The poor man's hair stood on end all day after that. "Got some griz?" was the joke in camp for a week.

Ah, she cracked herself up sometimes. Just then, a little blonde blur appeared in the hall and ran into her. "Ooof. Child, you should watch where you're going."

Amethyne looked up with her big eyes. "I'm sorry, Morrigan. I was playing hide and seek with Cyrano."

"The Warden's hound? Oh great, is he going to come barreling into me too?"

"Uh, I think he is-" Amethyne said as the sound of scrabbling paws on tile grew into a large dog. In a moment, there was a tangle of fur, arms and feathers on the floor.

"Gah! Stop licking my face, mutt! And get off of me! I have a right mind to turn you into-"

The girl burst into giggling gales, pointing at Cyrano slobbering on Morrigan. "Oh, you should have seen your face. Good doggy, come here." The hound leapt off of the witch and sat quietly next to Amethyne. The dog was bigger than she was.

Morrigan stood and wiped her face. "Yuck. Oh, you think that's funny, huh? Hrmph, well, I suppose it was. Anyhow, I was going to the kitchens. Perhaps you and mutt would care for a bite?"

"We would love one."

"Good, I, for one, am sick of Alistair's gray stew surprise and Oghren's dragon piss doesn't agree with me."

"Oghren's a funny one. He smells weird though."

The witch snickered. "You're very perceptive, child. He has so much alcohol in him I shudder to think what would happen if he approached a fire too close. Then again, he would make a wonderful grenade."

Amethyne laughed. "You're funny too, Morrigan."

Morrigan paused for a moment. A child's laughter…. She could not remember laughing as a girl. She looked down to see the necklace that Master Mikhail had made for Amethyne. The meteoric metal nearly glowed with power and its jewels reflected the light in a million different hues. Morrigan thought of a gem encrusted brush that she once had, twirling it in her small hands, admiring its beauty. Then, she remembered the brush shattered beneath Flemeth's foot and the back of her mother's hand. There were often welts and red cheeks, but no laughter.

"I…um…thank you. T'is a gift."

They rounded the corner and entered Redcliffe's kitchens, the sounds and smells of a feast cooking whetting their appetites. Morrigan's eye was drawn to a large, bronze-skinned Qunari standing by the ovens, wearing an apron. He pulled out a tray of cookies and set a bowl of frosting in front of him. The witch put her hands together as if her prayers were answered. "Oh, how precious. Here, watch this." With a wave of her hand, the cookies began to float and then spun in the air around his head.

Sten stepped back, his eyes huge with surprise. "_Katara, bas!_" he cried and swatted a cookie with his spatula.

Morrigan willed the cookies back onto the tray. No use wasting all that good baking. "Oh, Qunari, you made my day."

The big man turned and raised the corner of his lip. "_Vashedan_. It's you, witch. I'll have you know that baking is an honorable profession in Seheron. I've decided to name these…warrior cakes," he said as he looked down at his apron and slid it off to reveal his bare chest, flexing his muscles.

"Oh yes…_very_ warrior like. The pink frosting gave it away."

Amethyne was crying with laughter by this point and Sten narrowed an eye at them, getting her to stop instantly. "You, little girl, you may be a warrior one day if your mother wills it. If so, you will be great, perhaps even an _arishok_ among your kind. To that end, I give you some of my warrior cakes."

The girl took the stack of cookies and popped one in her mouth with a smile. Then, the Qunari held one out for Cyrano, who snapped it up in one bite. "The warrior hound must have some too. These may be too powerful for the witch though."

Morrigan smirked. "Don't count on it," she said and a cookie flew into her hand.

Sten wrinkled his nose, but held up the bowl of frosting and the spatula. "It needs the warrior gloss and battle sprinkles," he said dryly as he spread pink goo on the cookie and then poured silver and white bits on it. "This is only for the strong."

She took a bite and her eyes opened wide. "Sten…t'is very tasty. You have a talent for such things."

"These things are foretold in the Qun. Take some to the Warden when you go. None for Alistair though. He is not worthy of battle sprinkles."

"No, he's not. I'll make sure the Warden gets them all."

Morrigan took a stack of cookies in a bag and then looked down to Amethyne, who had crumbs and frosting all over her face. The witch was not quite sure what to do, but instinct seemed to guide her. She knelt down and held part of her robe up, wiping the girl's face, revealing a big smile. Morrigan stopped, a warm feeling building in her chest. Damn that Oghren's and his dragon piss – it always gave her heartburn. But, this wasn't the same thing and it felt rather nice, actually. Was this how she should have been, a child with a big grin, laughing through hallways and forests? What would it have been like to have been a child who was loved? Her breath caught for a moment and she blinked, wiping away a single drop of water from her eye.

"Morrigan, are you okay?"

"T'is nothing, child…I mean, Amethyne. Just got a battle sprinkle caught in my throat. Here now, you and that mutt go and play and I'll take these warrior cakes to your mother."

"Mother will read to me later. I love _Fried Mush and Nug_."

"Not Leliana and Zevran's version, I hope."

"Huh? No, this is the one about the cute and adorable nug that lives in a castle."

"Oh good, the other version t'is not for children's ears," the witch said as she rubbed Amethyne's shoulders and then patted the girl on the nose with her finger. "Run along now. I'll see you for dinner."

Amethyne ran off with Cyrano in tow and Morrigan made her way up to the Warden's quarters. Just for fun, the witch morphed into a cat, holding the bag of cookies in her mouth and climbed up into the ceiling to enter the room from above. Why just use the front door – that was boring.

She perched on the ledge and made ready to leap down when she heard the Warden and Alistair arguing over some meaningless politics. Who would inherit the crown of Ferelden? Who would be their heir? Amethyne was legitimately adopted by the Warden, but the people might only accept Connor. Morrigan shrugged. Who cared?

The Warden threw up her hands and walked away from Alistair. It was about time she got rid of that schlubb. But then, who else was there? The two-headed elf who only followed the little head? The reeking dwarf? Perhaps the bard? At least the bard could sing.

Then, Alistair grabbed the Warden by the sleeve of her dress and spun her around, putting a golden rose in her hand. This was that little trinket that he had Sandal make from the flower that was picked in Lothering. The Warden's face softened and their lips met. Morrigan sighed. For as formidable as the woman was in battle, she had no taste in men. The witch turned to scurry away, but she found herself riveted to the spot. Alistair yanked on the knot in front of the Warden's dress and pulled the strings loose.

As she watched the emerald green skirt and bodice fall away, Morrigan expected that she would feel sick, but instead, she felt a tingle along her skin. The prince's hands brushed along the Warden's breasts and then the woman lay back onto the bed, softly biting her lower lip and gazing upward with sparkling eyes. She reached out her hand and pulled him down, pushing his head down between her thighs. The witch never knew that Alistair had it in him. The Warden threw her head back, curling her toes and digging her booted heels into his flanks as if he were her massive black stallion. He slid up and reached down between his legs to undo the cords of his pants. Morrigan's cat eyes widened.

An idea came to the witch like a bolt of lightning. It was all there, in Flemeth's Grimoire. The Blight…the Archdemon…a child. It could be an answer to everything. And, the child would not be raised as Flemeth raised Morrigan. There were other ways to raise a child. There were smiles…and laughter…and maybe even cookies. She looked one last time to see the Warden roll over on top of Alistair and brush the hair out of her eyes with a flip of her hand. For a moment, Morrigan imagined herself in the Warden's place and she felt a warm ache in her body. She turned and rubbed her whiskers on a wooden beam and then licked the back of her paws. With a growly _meow, _she picked up the bag of cookies and scampered off in search of a cold bath. Imagination had to become reality.


End file.
